Tipping Point
by roktavor
Summary: Wakiya is stressed, Rantaro is worried, and they're both too tired to handle it (at first).


**A/N:** PrincessLocket requested KumiWaki + tears, from the prompt list – which is great bc I've been itching to write some hurt/comfort lately - this was good practice. I hope you like it! You've been impossibly kind and patient.

…Bear with me through the beginning, guys. I had to kinda pile on the introspection for…reasons.

Takes place just a tiny bit before current canon events - before the bey cruise thing.

* * *

 **Tipping Point**

The sensation of falling is what wakes him, and Wakiya jerks to awareness in his bed, breathing erratic and heartbeat frantic as he sits up. He calms immediately when he recognizes that there's no actual danger outside of his dream, but he _does_ only gets those terrible, 'feel-like-you're-falling' dreams when he's stressed…so that means no more sleep for the foreseeable future.

Swinging his legs out of bed, Wakiya resigns himself to waking up – he throws a glance at the clock – _four hours_ early.

…Could be worse. Maybe.

Now that he's awake his mind is already whirring; it stays that way as he gets dressed in proper training clothes. He's content to let it wander for now, grabbing Wyvern from the nightstand and heading down the hall to the practice rooms. There's been a lot to think about lately.

Chouzetsu beys. Those are the new trend sweeping the beyblading world. Valt has one, Free has one…it seems that everyone who's anyone has been gifted one of these extraordinarily powerful beys. Wakiya, though, is stuck with his usual Wyvern. Nothing chouzetsu about it, it's remained relatively unchanged since his upgrade two years ago – if he doesn't want to get left behind, he'll have to compensate somehow.

For now the only thing he can do is train. Practice practice practice, him and his team, until Wakiya finds someone who can maybe upgrade them…he has more research to do on what parts and materials will be best, too, come to think of it. Money, fortunately, is no object, but there's also quality to consider. He can't trust just _anyone_ with a job like this, after all.

These beys are still fairly new, chouzetsu technologies only breaking into the scene a little while ago, so finding reliable information is tricky. By now Wakiya's spent countless hours researching, and even more pondering _what_ he should be researching.

And then there's the thought of all his friends, scattered worldwide by now. Keeping tabs is more difficult than it was all those years ago, when they were within reach of the same elementary school. He has a vague idea of where Shu is, Daina is still in France upon last check-in, Sisco is here in Spain for now (he just visited yesterday, actually), Kensuke _should_ be home, and Valt is…who-knows-where. Hoji – good, reliable, steadfast Hoji – is in Japan as usual, for which Wakiya is grateful. Rantaro is asleep just down the hall. Those two he knows for sure, at least.

As for all the other 'bladers around the world…more and more powerful players keep popping up. He's seen Phi battle, and Valt had said something about someone named Aiga…there's that cruise coming up as well….

A lot's going on, much more than when Wakiya first broke into the sport.

He can tell that even Wyvern is restless, though, and the only way to assuage it is through battles – or at least letting it spin around the stadium until every launch is perfect. It's an interesting mirror to his own mind: sleep comes much easier when he exhausts himself _and_ Wyvern physically. So he has to train now, or risk more falling nightmares.

Sighing, Wakiya pushes open the training room doors and gets to work. Too many thoughts in his head, he sets about quieting them in earnest, from the treadmill to the weights to the beystadium.

All the while he keeps _thinking_ , though, and everything he's doing here feels useless in the face of every daunting problem that crops up in his mind.

Sure, he can practice until his fingers bleed, he can work out until his muscles are sore – but what good is all of that going to do if he can't find anyone willing to get him to chouzetsu status? If he can't figure out what makes Phi tick? If the mysteries keep piling up?

For the time being, he absolutely _cannot_ fall behind.

He's exhausted barely two hours in, but doesn't trust himself to sleep just yet, and so launches Wyvern once more.

"Wakiya?"

Looking up from the stadium, Wakiya blinks. He hadn't even heard the door open, but there's Rantaro, standing just inside, wearing his pajamas with his hair a ruffled mess. At least _someone_ has been sleeping well.

"What're you doin' up?" Wakiya asks, already knowing what he'll get in response.

As predicted, Rantaro's brows scrunch up with a frown. "That's my question," he says, and then yawns immediately after.

"I'm practicin', o'course." Wakiya bends down to scoop the still-spinning Wyvern into his hand, and sets it up for another launch.

"It's four AM!" Rantaro exclaims, as if Wakiya can't see the time on the clock for himself. He steps further into the room, hands in his sweatpants' pockets, until he's standing just across the beydish. "You should go back to sleep."

Scoffing, Wakiya rolls his eyes. "I _can't_ sleep, that's why I'm here." How easily he admits that is testament to how tired he is (…as well as present company, probably), and if he had any sense, he'd keep his trap shut and not breathe another word. He's running kinda low on sense, though, the later (earlier?) it gets.

Rantaro's frown takes on a concerned edge. Something about that sends a pang through Wakiya's chest – but he chalks that up to being tired, too.

"You can't sleep?"

"S'what I said," Wakiya grumbles, looking away from soft brown eyes to focus on his launch instead. It could stand to be more powerful. He'll have to focus better next time.

But he can _hear_ Rantaro getting closer, until the other boy is near enough to touch. Wakiya still can't look up from watching Wyvern spin around and around, claiming the center spot. _Too_ _slow_ , he thinks.

"Wakiya," Rantaro says, in that soft tone he gets when he's _worried_ or _hurting_ , "do you –"

"I _need_ ta keep practicin', Kiyama."

From the corner of his eye, Wakiya can see the way Rantaro's jaw tenses, and he tells himself to stop feeling guilty, because the sooner Rantaro leaves, the sooner Wakiya can regain full focus, and the sooner he can find a solution to one of their problems. _Then_ he'll sleep.

"You should at least try to sleep." Rantaro's voice is harder, now, which makes it easier to be irritated with him.

Wakiya's fist tightens around his launcher. "I told ya I can't."

"You should still try!" To his credit, Rantaro gives Wakiya a good while to respond to that. He casts his gaze around the room, biting on his index fingernail in lieu of a lollipop, and when Wakiya says nothing he asks: "How long have you been in here?"

"A little while," Wakiya answers, hearing how the tightness in his shoulders bleeds into his voice.

"So over an hour, then?" He can _also_ hear the raised eyebrow in Rantaro's voice.

Watching as Wyvern loses steam and spins to a stop on its side, Wakiya feels one of his eyelids twitch. "What's yer point?"

" _Go to bed_ , Wakiya."

That does it. Wakiya rounds on him, eyes ablaze. "I keep tellin' ya I _can't_!" he snaps, almost louder than he meant to. "Don't ya think I'd sleep if I could?! There's too much ta think about, and if the rest of ya aren't gonna worry, then –!"

"What's with you?!" Rantaro is bristling as he interrupts, his shoulders rising and his hands balling into fists. "You invited me here, but you've just been on edge most of the time, and –"

" _Sorry_ that I can't just ignore everythin'!" Does Rantaro think that Wakiya wouldn't relax if he could? He'd love to be carefree, but at the moment, it's just not…plausible.

"I never said you should!" Rantaro leans in closer. "What's so bad that it's got you all –"

"In case ya haven't noticed," Wakiya cuts him off before he can even finish such a dumb question, "the competition is gettin' much stronger, with chouzetsu –"

"So what?! Is that a reason to worry this much? You can't exhaust yourself like this just because someone might be better than you! That happens, y'know – even to _you_."

Okay, that hurt.

In the back of his mind, Wakiya registers that Rantaro looks just as tired as himself, but – he's so angry, and exhausted, and downtrodden that the words are out of his mouth before he can even process what he's saying.

"Unlike you, I used ta be one'a the best! Just because yer used ta losin' all the time doesn't mean I am!"

Even afterwards it doesn't fully sink in until he sees the way Rantaro's face crumbles for a moment before it sets into a scowl – a scowl punctuated by watery eyes.

For too many heartbeats, the silence echoes around them. Wakiya is acutely aware of calming his breath. One of those tears in Rantaro's eyes threatens to spill over, and he feels his stomach freeze with regret.

"K-Kiyama. I didn't mean –"

"Yes you did. You've always…said that." Rantaro blinks, and a tear or two slip down his cheek, only to be furiously scrubbed away. "I know it, too, so just. Shut up, please."

"No," Wakiya insists, concern building with every moment Rantaro spends avoiding his eyes, "I really didn' mean it, I'm…" he doesn't know how to finish that.

Rantaro angles away from him, and Wakiya hates how his shoulders tremble. He can still see the way wetness drips off of Rantaro's chin, and the way his shirtsleeves work overtime to clean his face.

"You can't even…" Rantaro's voice comes out thick and choked, "shit – why'm I…."

Wakiya's heart drops into his shoes. He wishes Rantaro would start yelling at him again, because then they could shout it out; argue with each other until they either storm apart or accidentally resolve things. That would be familiar. It would tamp out Wakiya's guilt. He hadn't meant to make Rantaro _cry_.

His mind is back to racing, searching for something to say or do that will fix this. Something to stop Rantaro's sniffling, something to turn back time a few minutes, something to give him insight, something to _help_.

…He remembers a moment, two and a half years old now. The memory conjures itself, of Wakiya on his way to battle Hoji for the honor of reentering Japan's individual tournament.

Before he and Rantaro were close, before they'd really even spoken much, Wakiya had passed him in the back hallway of the venue. He had watched him scrub away disappointed tears and thought ' _that doesn't look right on him_ ', but only in passing, because he had other concerns in those days. At the time he couldn't be bothered with a crying Rantaro, upset after giving his all in a battle only to come out on the losing side.

Sure, Wakiya feels guilty _now_ – feels that telltale pang in his heart _now_ – but that doesn't help with the way current Rantaro hiccups out a sob. Wakiya feels it in his own chest, and makes a halfhearted reach for Rantaro as he turns away fully.

"Kiyama –"

"Don't." Rantaro's voice is undoubtedly angry beneath his upset. "I get it."

No, he absolutely does not get it, and Wakiya wants to tell him as much. If only he could get his mouth to work, or his body to cooperate.

He remembers Rantaro's arm pressed to his on an otherwise lonely park bench, offering comfort when Wakiya's parents didn't come home for his birthday as they had promised. He remembers that arm around his shoulders, a hand _daring_ to ruffle his hair, laughter when it disrupted his ponytail.

Wakiya had given a watery smile with a halfhearted complaint, and the next day Rantaro had given him non-slip ponytail holders. All the while, he had politely ignored the way Wakiya had teared up even at _that_ , spouting off some apology about being a day late with his hand wrapped gift.

And Wakiya _also_ remembers many, many instances of being too high up and frozen with fear, tear tracks on his face, knees trembling, with Rantaro guiding him or carrying him, staying with him before during and after – and –

Damn. Now Wakiya's eyes are stinging, which is counterproductive. And Rantaro still won't look at him, his shoulders all bunched up as he wipes his nose on his sleeve.

Wakiya has to do _something_. He forces his feet to move, and stumbles around in front of Rantaro. It's probably not a smart move to hug him with no preamble, but Wakiya does it anyway, hauling Rantaro in close. He buries a hand into the short hair at the back of Rantaro's head, his other arm wrapped around behind his shoulders.

"I'm sorry," Wakiya says, bumping his cheek against Rantaro's jaw and noticing that it's damp with tears, "I'm so sorry, Kiyama, I shouldn't'a said that, please don't cry."

Rantaro's arms are pinned between them, folded at the elbow from the way he'd been rubbing at his face. When he trembles, Wakiya can feel it, and only holds him tighter.

"You're," Rantaro draws in a shuddery breath, but his voice is steadier, "the worst. Self-centered. Idiot."

That's fair, Wakiya thinks. He opens his mouth to agree, or maybe to apologize again, but Rantaro starts back up.

"And you're crying, too."

Technically, Wakiya's only tearing up, but he figures he'll let that slide. The tears aren't escaping yet – well, okay, not that many of them – and anyway – "Y-you started it!"

Rantaro doesn't laugh, as Wakiya had sort of been hoping he would. Instead his fingers drop forward to grip at Wakiya's shirt, before pushing until Wakiya backs out of the hug. He finds himself searching Rantaro's face, even as they both dodge eye contact.

"I'm…worried about you," Rantaro admits, after a moment, eyes downcast and arms crossed, "so let me help, or I'll go back to BC Sol." The statement begs an elaboration but isn't given one, Rantaro opting to visibly clench his jaw.

It has Wakiya's heart thudding heavily in his chest, though. That's too much to drop all at once! "Don't," he says, wincing at his own tone, and then restarting. "Don't leave, I mean – y'can help, and –"

"You'll have to talk to me for that, Wakiya."

"I know! I'll try – 'cause I love ya, an' I like havin' ya close, so. Y'gotta stay." Besides, he'd had _dates_ planned, before all this stress took over and derailed everything in the most horrendous way possible.

Now Rantaro is staring at him, though, eyes wide and round, posture frozen stiff as a board.

"…What is it?" Wakiya asks, half afraid of the answer.

He's offered no response. As he watches, brown eyes fill to overflowing with more tears, only for them to drip slowly down Rantaro's cheeks when he finally blinks.

Ah – what'd Wakiya do _now_?

Jolting into action much quicker this time, Wakiya wipes those tears away with the backs of his knuckles before Rantaro can do it himself. "Kiyama – what is it? I'm sorry," he rambles a bit as he works, feeling near frantic at the sight of his boyfriend crying _again_ , and –

And Rantaro laughs, this time, snapping out of his rigidity with a watery smile. This time, he pulls Wakiya in, nearly crushing him in a hug. "I love you, too," he mumbles.

… _Oh_.

Wakiya did…say that, didn't he? For the first time, no less. He can feel himself blushing, now, embarrassment sinking in after the fact.

But Rantaro is warm and happier against him. It's a comfort that Wakiya sinks into and tries to provide in turn, as best he can. Arms stuck to his sides with Rantaro's hug, he finagles them until he can return it properly. "I'm sorry," he says again.

"It's okay," Rantaro mutters, "I'm sorry, too."

Wakiya squeezes him tighter, until it _feels_ okay. "I didn't mean it."

"I know. So don't say it next time."

"I won't."

One of Rantaro's arms loosens, and a hand comes up to twirl Wakiya's ponytail between his fingers. "You're horrible at relationships," he mentions, all casual like, and Wakiya can tell he doesn't _mean it_ mean it.

"So are you!" Wakiya argues, making a show of bristling. He doesn't mean it, either. "I'm tryin', aren't I?"

Humming a little, as though he's considering whether or not that's true, Rantaro releases Wakiya, only to reaffirm his hug slightly lower. He uses this new hold to lift Wakiya up off the ground a handful of centimeters. "If you're stressed out," he says, "tell me _before_ you blow up."

"If yer _worried_ ," Wakiya grumbles, poking at Rantaro and squirming to try and get him to let go (even though he doesn't _hate_ being picked up…), "tell me before _you_ blow up."

Rantaro obliges in putting him down, and pulls back from their embrace a bit – apparently only so he can flick Wakiya in the forehead. "You're a pain."

"Yer worse!" Somehow, though, in moving to swat Rantaro's hand away, Wakiya ends up holding it. He spends a moment looking down at it, noting calluses in all the familiar places they can be found on his own, thanks to their launchers.

Rantaro's fingers close, grasping Wakiya's hand properly. "You'll let me help, though, right? Quit trying to do everything all the time."

Well, that's not an entirely fair, accusation, Wakiya doesn't think, because: "I came ta get you, didn't I?"

"Yeah," Rantaro acquiesces, lighthearted as he swings their hands a little, "and then you trained and trained and _trained_ and told me to mind my own business that one time and –"

"Okay, okay! M'sorry, already." So maybe it's fairer than Wakiya had initially thought. _Maybe_ Rantaro has a point.

There's silence for a beat, as a small smile grows on Rantaro's face and Wakiya can feel himself blushing a bit. He feels calmer, now, if more tired. It's easier not to think about problems with Rantaro around. That, or it's easier to relax with the affirmation that he shouldn't take everything upon himself. Both, probably.

"I know someone who makes Chouzetsu beys," Rantaro says eventually. Offhanded, as though it's not _imperative information_.

Wakiya blinks at him, brain taking a moment to process. "Why didn't ya say so earlier?!"

"Well," Rantaro says, shifting on his feet, "I wanted to make sure he'd be able to help us, first. I haven't gotten in touch with him yet, but he made one for my brother, so –"

And Wakiya really doesn't mean to interrupt Rantaro again, not when they've just settled things, but –

"He made one for _who_?!"

* * *

 **A/N:** We're halfway through Chouzetsu, and as long as they don't show us Rantaro or Wakiya, I'm going to continue to assume that they're together somewhere, it's only fair, (…Canon will probs make this whole fic moot at some point, but…this idea wouldn't leave me,)

I feel like my writing/handle on characterization is just getting worse these days, so I hope this was alright?

…Also I will admit that I don't understand what's going on in this season half the time since there aren't subs for all of it yet, so if there are inconsistencies please forgive them.

Thanks for reading!


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